


Words Unsaid

by VampyrePrince



Series: Unrequited [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:51:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock end up in an awkward but quite funny situation during a case while they are on the run. This leads to hints at Sherlock's true feelings for John, although the oblivious doctor doesn't realize it until it's made blatantly obvious. It's one of the most painful confessions Sherlock has ever had to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place shortly after His Last Vow, so if you have not watched that episode beware that this story contains mild spoilers! 
> 
> On that note, it's the ending we would have all preferred :)

John had to stop. His chest was burning and he was close to collapsing upon the cold ground, which is something he definitely did not want Sherlock to see. They had been running for cover after having been spotted snooping about the men's locker rooms on the other side of the field, where a football game was currently underway. It was one of their stranger cases they had been on as of late, one that involved a pedophile who ran a secret underground club for those especially inclined toward the depraved behavior. It made John sick to his stomach, just knowing that men like that existed in the world. It was enough of a reminder that he needed to suck it up and keep going, lest they be hauled out right in the middle of their search for their suspect, who was attending said football game – a football game for younger boys.

“Come on, John! We can hide through there!” The detective quickly slid into an open public restroom, a lone building that was made of stone and freezing cold inside, and also very dark. John cringed and chased after his companion, stopping immediately once he hit the wall of darkness before him. 

“Sherlock? Sherl-” A gloved hand reached out from a stall and clamped around the doctor's mouth before nearly ripping his arm off to pull him inside. Among the stale smell of the restroom, John could make out Sherlock's usual scent and realized they were now pushed against each other in a very small toilet stall. The only sounds that could be heard were the occasional referee whistle, cheering in the distance, and their sharp, quick breaths. 

“Shhh.” Sherlock set his lips by John's ear and whispered, squeezing the doctor's arm. “Don't talk, just stand very still and they won't know we're here.” 

John nodded as he felt goosebumps crawling up his skin. Sherlock's breath was so wonderfully warm against the cold evening air, and he found himself leaning into his friend's chest to gather warmth. The space was small anyway, and Sherlock would most likely not think anything of it. It was nothing more than a need for heat. 

“Damn!” Sherlock hissed in mild irritation as their pursuers rounded the corner to the restrooms, their voices coming closer and closer to the stall that the two were huddled in. “John, sit on the toilet, I'm going to need to sit in your lap, and put your feet up.”

“... sorry, what do you expect me to-?”

“Just do it!” Sherlock pushed John until he was in front of the toilet, then shoved him back until he was sitting on the seat, then crawled awkwardly into his lap and lifted his feet to press against the wall, John doing the same in front of the door. They both stilled their breathing as two sets of feet came tapping loudly across the concrete, irate voices rushing through meaningless conversation as the two guards turned on the light. 

“I know I saw them come this way. You check under those stalls, I'll check these.”

“Oh fuck...” Sherlock slapped a hand over John's mouth as he muttered the curse under his breath, the poor doctor's legs growing extremely sore from Sherlock's weight and the strain from holding them up. They began to shake slightly, the detective's eyes growing wide as he stared at John in a silent plea to just last a moment longer. John clenched his teeth and closed his eyes as he bore the pain, throwing his head back as he tried to think of something besides the fact that Sherlock was sitting in his lap in a public restroom. Then it hit him. He had nearly forgot that he had had to use the toilet for the better half of the evening, and his bladder was now aching as Sherlock's weight pressed on his abdomen. In all of the excitement John hadn't paid any attention to his needs, not until now. He started cursing silently in his head, his anger building as the guards stopped to chat in the middle of the restroom.

Sherlock shifted to ease the burden on his own legs, causing a spike of pain to rush across John's abdomen, making him buck his hips up and tense his thighs. The doctor bit his lip in embarrassment and glared at Sherlock, who's face had turned a dark shade of pink. Oh god, he hadn't meant that. He tried to mouth the words 'I have to take a piss', and thankfully Sherlock seemed to get the idea. The detective grinned and relaxed his back against the wall of the stall, putting his full weight on John's lap. The doctor's gaze was murderous. 

The guards finally decided it was time to leave, not finding the two that they were searching for, and carried on their conversation through the passage to the field. 

“Alright Sherlock, off.”

“Shh, wait, I want to be sure they're gone before we move.”

“You little shit.” The detective tried to suppress a smile and shifted once more in John's lap.

“Quite cramped in here.”

“No, it's quite comfortable actually.”

“Are you serious?”

“No I'm not bloody serious! Now get off me before I piss myself.” Sherlock sighed and climbed off of John's lap, watching as the shorter man winced in an attempt to stand. “Thank god no one saw that.”

“An awkward position I will admit.” 

“That is an understatement...” John glanced down as Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, watching the detective as he turned red in the face and pulled his coat to cover his midsection. Oh... Oh! Sherlock cleared his throat loudly and opened the bathroom stall.

“Hurry up. We need to get back to the flat. I believe I've nearly solved the case.” The detective swallowed audibly as John unzipped his pants behind him. 

“Yeah, but isn't the game over? How are we supposed to find the bastard now?”

“We... um.” Sherlock flexed his fingers and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was growing hard, and John was not helping matters. The small sigh that escaped the doctor's lips nearly sent him over the edge. He had to leave. “I'll meet you outside.” 

John zipped back up and turned around to find Sherlock already gone. Something was wrong. It wasn't often that Sherlock was at a loss for words; something was really bothering him. The doctor became slightly worried and raced outside after rinsing his hands off in the sink, tucking them into his coat pockets to avoid freezing in the cold night air. He spotted Sherlock standing by the drinking fountains, his eyes shut and his head resting against the stone wall. “Sherlock? Everything alright?”

The detective's eyes shot open and he glanced at John before focusing on the fence in the distance. “Yeah, I'm fine. Should get back now. If we're lucky Mrs. Hudson's got tea ready.” John nodded and followed his friend out of the park, both of them speaking not another word.

* * *

As they had suspected, Mrs. Hudson was in the flat the moment they entered, tea being prepared in the kitchen while the boys shed their coats and collapsed into their respective chairs. John slid back into the red plush cushion, a relaxed expression crossing his features as his legs spread out before him and he closed his eyes. The heat came rushing back into his body and fatigue threatened to overtake him completely. Sherlock took the moment to watch John in his chair while his eyes were closed, his own problem from earlier finally having been walked off. Jesus, he'd hoped John hadn't noticed.

“Woohoo! Got tea for you boys. It's a cold night out there.” The landlady smiled and placed two cups beside them, filling them with hot water. “Now I won't be doing this every night you decide to go dashing about in the cold weather.”

“It's quite alright Mrs. Hudson, thank you.” John smiled as he thanked the older woman, bringing the cup of steaming liquid to his face to feel the heat on his cheeks. She smiled in return and left them to their own company. “So, going to call Greg?” 

Sherlock came to his senses as the question finally reached his ears. “Who?”

“You know, Greg Lestrade? The man you've been working with for over five years?”

“Oh, Lestrade. I have some thinking to do. I'll contact him first thing in the morning.” John nodded and blew some of the steam from his tea, taking a sip and scalding his tongue in the process. Sherlock hid a grin and took a sip of his own tea, watching John over the rim of his cup. The buzz after the chase was the moment they always looked forward to at night when they finally managed to drag themselves back to the flat. Tonight had been a particularly late one, and John had finally noticed the time upon looking at his watch.

“Oh god, Mary will be worried. I should let her know that everything's fine.” 

“I'm sure she's fine, John.” The doctor dug through his pockets for his phone and dialed Mary's number only to reach the voicemail. 

“Damn... Yeah Mary, it's John. Sorry I won't be getting in until late. We think we've solved the case, so I'll be home soon. I love you.” Sherlock got a sour taste in the back of his mouth as he heard the three small words flow so easily from John's lips. It wasn't that Sherlock disliked Mary, it was quite the opposite. What bothered him was the sentiment itself. Hearing John say those words to her made his heart ache, and he knew inside what that meant, he just didn't want to admit it. It would be too painful to come to the realization of what exactly it meant. So he would sit there, pretending to be happy for them, pretending that everything was fine and that things were good the way they were. He wanted John to be happy and nothing could come between that happiness.

“Don't be stupid John. Mary's in bed and it's late, just stay here. I'll need you in the morning.”

“That would definitely give the media something to talk about.”

“What?”

“Me sleeping at your flat.”

“Christ John, you used to live here, unless you've forgotten.”

“No I haven't.” The doctor sighed and looked around, finally settling on the idea that it would indeed be painful to go back out into the cold weather after having been in front of the warm fire Mrs. Hudson had so kindly lit before their return. He could always sleep on the couch anyway, and he would return to Mary as soon as he could after visiting Scotland Yard the next morning. “Alright. You've made your point. I'll sleep on the sofa. But I need a shower first.”

* * * 

The sound of the pipes straining as the water kicked on in the restroom met Sherlock's ears as he leaned against the door, his brain mentally kicking him for listening in on John's showering habits. The uncomfortable bulge in his pants may have finally gone, but he could still feel the fire threatening to flare up again. It was his own fault that they'd ended up in their awkward situation earlier that night, but it was a wise decision to have John be the one on the bottom. Their conversation upon returning would have been much more difficult otherwise. It was an irritating reaction and the one part of being human that he loathed. He tried his best to ignore it and it would eventually go away, but even Sherlock couldn't go for long without having to relieve himself. He was only human after all. 

He groaned in frustration as the sensation of arousal resurfaced while he listened to the water flowing. It was ridiculous. John was married, he had a wife now and a baby on the way, and he most certainly wasn't gay. None of that mattered to Sherlock's current mind unfortunately. He was finding it hard to think clearly, and he could feel his pants growing tight. John was spending the night, he would be out in the front room, sleeping on the sofa. The sofa? Nonsense. The sofa was an uncomfortable option at best. He would let John use his bed instead. Without him in it, of course. No, he couldn't lie to himself. 

His thought process had got so carried away that he didn't realize the door as it opened, warm steam hitting him in the face as he nearly fell over. All color drained from the detective's face and he looked over at John, who stepped out of the bathroom in his clothes he had worn earlier that evening. The doctor quirked an eyebrow, then cleared his throat awkwardly as he noticed the bulge that had reappeared in Sherlock's trousers. “Well, this is awkward.”

“You're expecting an explanation.”

“I don't know how to respond, actually. Do you... uh, need the loo?” Sherlock frowned and rolled his eyes.

“I'm not a teenager, John.”

“Alright, then... well...” 

“Let's just get this over with.” Sherlock motioned for John to follow him into the front room, where they took their respective seats. The detective placed his hands in a praying position before his face as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. “You've got questions.”

“Sherlock, it's really none of my business. I can't control how you feel about... whatever it is you're feeling.”

“Don't play stupid, you've been wondering ever since we left the football field.” John shifted uncomfortably and leaned back into his chair. 

“Alright, what's wrong then? Are you trying to tell me you have indecent thoughts about me?” The detective let out a shaky sigh, and for a moment his eyes shone with worry, uncertainty. John was going to find out sooner or later anyway.

“And if I said yes?” John sputtered a laugh and sat forward in his chair again.

“I won't think any less of you. I kind of suspected that you might be gay when we met, actually.” Sherlock laughed and his tension eased a little.

“I assumed that was why you asked the 'boyfriend' question.”

“Well, you said women weren't your area.”

“They're not.”

“What about Irene?” Sherlock shook his head and closed his eyes. The Woman. She always seemed to pop up at the most inappropriate of times. He was quite fond of her, missed her at times even, but if it were to ever come down to Irene or John for a night of mind-blowing sex, he probably wouldn't choose Irene. And where the hell had that thought process come from?

“No idea where she's at and no desire to find out.”

“So, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Obviously nothing can be done. You're a married man, and you've made it implicitly clear that you're not gay. So I have no choice but continue to go on with my life, remembering this awkward conversation and how much I would have never wished it to happen.” John chuckled and stood, walking over to Sherlock's chair. The detective watched him in confusion as the doctor held out his hand, which Sherlock took cautiously. He was pulled into a tight hug that caught him completely off guard, and it didn't help the problem in his pants. “Sorry.”

“You are still my best friend Sherlock. Just because you feel that way about me does not mean you're putting me off.”

“Thank you, John.” There was a moment of silence between them before they pulled apart, but remained close. “When I was boarding the plane, that day after I shot Magnussen... I lied.”

“Lied? About what?”

“When I told you there had been something I had been meaning to say for a long time. I couldn't admit it then, because I knew I was going to die.”

“You told me it was only going to be six months.”

“Yes, well, I lied.”

“Bloody good at that.” A look of irritation crossed John's face and he backed away.

“Wait.” Sherlock grasped the arm of John's shirt, stopping the doctor from turning his back completely. “I couldn't tell you the truth because you had Mary, and it wouldn't have been right.”

“So, tell me now. What did you want to say to me?”

“John...” Sherlock took a deep breath, fighting with himself to allow the words to surface. He was failing, just as he had then. What if he really had left and died without telling John the truth? He lived a dangerous life, both of them did by choice, and any day could be his last. _Just say it!_ “I love you, John.”

The doctor swallowed hard, his heart rate speeding up as he took the words in. It made sense now, the reason Sherlock had looked so sad before. God, he really was in love, and John hadn't been able to see it. He had been so stressed and confused from everything that had happened that the simple joke shared between them during that moment was all that there was, or what seemed to be. Now it was clear, all of those moments when Sherlock looked sad, at the wedding during their last moment before he and Mary went to dance when Sherlock had looked so alone. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? All of the signs were suddenly so obvious. But what could he do now? He didn't even know what the hell to say.

“Wow. I'm... I'm flattered Sherlock. I really am, but... Mary, and I'm-”

“Not gay, yes we've all heard it many times.” The detective smiled and released John's shirt. “Get some sleep. We'll need to phone Lestrade and give him everything in the morning.”

“You're alright?”

“Just as long as you don't mind a bit of music to lull you to sleep.” John frowned. The violin. Sherlock always went to his violin when he was depressed. He wasn't going to get any sleep if the detective started composing. He didn't want to give Sherlock any false hope, but he couldn't stand seeing his best friend in such emotional pain. The man hid it well, of course, but after knowing Sherlock for so long he could tell when he was hurting.

“What do you need?” The question caught Sherlock off guard and his eyes widened.

“What do I..?”

“I mean, I'm not going to shag you, I don't think I could go that far, but I can love you as my best mate. You already know you and Mary are the two people I love most in the world.” 

“I know.” Sherlock smiled and closed the space between them, smoothing the back of his hand against the side of John's face. “Mary wouldn't mind one kiss, would she?”

“And you're so sure I'd kiss you because?”

“Because you asked me what I need, and this is what I need.”

“I suppose I walked into that one. Alright, it's just a kiss, right?”

“Just one. Then we can forget it.” John laughed and shook his head, placing his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck, closing the space between them until they were close enough to touch foreheads.

“Come here you git.” Sherlock closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath as their lips connected, John's other hand sliding around to rest on the detective's back. It was soft and slow, an innocent kiss that very quickly set Sherlock's skin on fire. He was finding it harder and harder to control himself, and dared to slide his tongue along John's lips. He groaned as John's mouth opened slightly, still unsure of what it was exactly that he wanted to do. 

“Sherlock...” John was drawn into the kiss that he had attempted to take control over, trying his best to drop hints that things were getting too far out of hand. It wasn't working, and he found himself pressing tightly against his best friend's body, their deepening kiss now beginning to have an effect on both of them. Sherlock's tongue felt strange in his mouth, his lips hard and warm as they pressed against his own. 

John finally managed to ease back, licking his lips as he watched Sherlock regain his composure. Although he wasn't gay, he wasn't going to deny that it felt pretty good. 

“So... Alright then?” John created a bit of distance between them. It was awkward enough that Sherlock was visibly aroused, that much he felt during their kiss. That and his own arousal, which bothered him slightly. Okay, so he didn't mind kissing Sherlock. That was oddly okay.

“Alright.” Sherlock rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, focusing on his shoes before glancing back up at John, who had to admit that it was ridiculously adorable. “I do believe I need the loo, however.” They both burst out laughing, the tension now having gone from the room and the atmosphere much lighter than it had been earlier. John backed up and fell onto the couch once their laughter died down.

“Well before you go and fantasize about us shagging, can I get a sheet?” Sherlock snorted and disappeared into his bedroom, then returned shortly after with a white sheet. He tossed it in John's face and turned to walk to the bathroom. He needed a shower anyway, and it would definitely help him sleep. He reached for the handle and pushed the door open, and jumped when he heard John shout across the flat: “I'd better not find you out here in the morning on top of me or I'll kick your arse!” 

“Don't tempt me, John Watson.” 

“Fuck off!” The detective giggled as he shut the bathroom door and disrobed to climb into the shower. Tomorrow was definitely going to be awkward, but at least he could breathe now knowing that John at least loved him too. It may not have been in the way that he wanted, but it was enough. And maybe, just maybe he could sneak another kiss again.


End file.
